


B&R19: The Mighty Quinn

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: Drama, Episode Related, Fix-It, M/M, Series, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-06-23
Updated: 2007-06-23
Packaged: 2018-11-10 17:21:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11131332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: Tom Quinn visits his erstwhile prodigy, all grown up and living in Chicago.





	B&R19: The Mighty Quinn

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

B&R19: The Mighty Quinn

## B&R19: The Mighty Quinn

  
by Dee Gilles  


Disclaimer: No money made. For entertainment only.

* * *

Benny and Ray 19 The Mighty Quinn Rated PG-13 Dee Gilles  
  
A man eased a sleek, black Buick to the curbside of America's busiest airport with precise smoothness, and emerged from the vehicle, his eyes searching. It took Quinn a moment to realize that it was Ben Fraser. Ben had filled out quite a bit since he had seen him last, in his shoulders and chest. He looked good; happy and healthy. There was a certain serene swagger to his walk as he moved towards him. Tom Quinn grinned. Ben stuck out his hand, and Quinn took the proffered hand and pulled him into a bear hug.   
  
"Ben Fraser," Quinn said. "It's been too many years." He clapped his young friend on the back.  
  
"Yes, it has, Quinn. How are you?"  
  
"Never better, my friend. Never better!"   
  
If Quinn remembered correctly, Ben was pushing thirty-four, maybe thirty-five, tops. He looked good with a few lines on his face. His skin was as dark as it was when Ben used to spend his days in the summer sun as a child. Good. He had a bit of girth around his waist. He had aged, yet his eyes were as gentle as always. Ben said, "Sorry, I'm running a bit late. My class ran long."  
  
"No problem. I was enjoying the people-watching."  
  
"Let me take your bag," Ben said. "There's a line behind us." He popped the trunk, dropped Quinn's leather satchel in, and slid behind the wheel.   
  
"Nice ride," Quinn commented.  
  
Ben smiled sheepishly. "I don't have a car. This belongs to my friend, Ray."   
  
He continued once he had eased into heavy traffic. "He was nice enough to loan it to me for the evening. He's sorry that he couldn't come himself, but he had to work. You'll get to meet him tomorrow night, though. Ray's going to treat us to dinner if he can, but he's on call all weekend."  
  
"He a doctor?"  
  
Ben half-smiled at the notion of Ray Vecchio as a doctor. "No. He's a police detective."  
  
"You seem to have an affinity towards them, don't you?' Quinn said, remembering Steve.  
  
Ben didn't pretend to misunderstand him. "So it would seem," he said. He was silent for a few minutes, lost in his own memories, Quinn supposed.  
  
"So, what is this class you are taking?" Quinn gently changed the subject.  
  
"I'm auditing an Italian history class at the University of Chicago. Tonight, we got into a discussion about the de Medici's and their place in history, their vast influence in the arts and architecture... what a powerful family. Fascinating stuff."  
  
"I had no idea you were interested in Mediterranean history. I thought you were more interested in Britannica."  
  
"Well...Ray's Italian."  
  
Quinn suddenly sparked with laughter. "Ah, so everything is illuminated. You're in love, aren't you?"  
  
Quinn watched him grin in profile. "Yes, I am. Very happily so."  
  
Quinn's eyes skimmed over traffic. There was nothing to see but headlights and bumpers. Given the time of night, traffic seemed rather heavy. But, then again, it was the big city, so this was probably normal. The air was cool and damp. "So tell me about him," Quinn requested, inhaling the pungent fumes of car exhaust and stagnant water that wafted in through the air vents. "Where did you two meet?"  
  
Ben was happy to oblige. "He was the detective who helped me find Dad's murderer. We became best friends practically from day one. We formed, what I guess one would call a `duet'; he helped me adjust to life in the city, and we helped each other solve crimes. Last summer, I went on holiday in the Yukon, and I found myself missing him so incredibly much. Upon my return, an arsonist had burned down my building, and I ended up moving in with Ray and his family for several months. And we just got closer and closer from there. Our first anniversary is coming up next month."  
  
"So, is he the reason you never go and visit the tribal elders? They still ask about you, you know."  
  
"Well...the trip to Inuvik is very expensive, as you know. It took me two years to save up just to go to Whitehorse, and Inuvik is considerably more costly."  
  
Quinn made a sympathetic sound. It had taken him almost three years of saving to come to Chicago, after all his letters and phone calls went unanswered, to try make one last desperate attempt to stop the government's Phase Three Energy Project from flooding the valley and submerging the small village. He feared it was doomed, but he had to try, nevertheless. He would go to his grave, knowing that he had tried.  
  
"But enough about me," Ben said, interrupting Quinn's thoughts. "Have you thought about what you're going to say tomorrow? They're breaking ground in sixty days, Quinn. I fear that there's no way that you can succeed."  
  
"I have to succeed. I have to save my land," Quinn said. "No other choice."   
  
Ben sighed, and they both lapsed into frustrated silence.  
  
VVVVVV  
  
For the occasion, Ben had special-ordered some venison from the butcher shop. It now slowly cooked above glowing embers. Ben had dragged his Weber kettle out to the back lawn, so as not to be a fire hazard. He flipped the meat, and returned to the porch, seating himself in the Adirondack chair next to Quinn.   
  
Quinn, who had lately acquired a taste for dark lager, was on his third Sam Adams Dark, and he was feeling a little buzzed as he sat back in his Adirondack, dressed in a fleece pullover and bare feet. The aromatic smoke from the grill made his mouth water. Ben had whipped up a fresh batch of French onion dip, and had set it out with some good salty chips which sent Quinn reaching for more beer.   
  
Upon arrival, he had been surprised at how richly appointed the furnishings in Ben's apartment were. Ben Fraser was as Spartan as they came. There definitely was the influence of another. "Does Ray live here, too?" He couldn't help but ask.   
  
"Lately." Ben had said. "He's been staying at his house the nights I have class, Tuesdays and Thursdays to spend time with his family. The rest of the time, he is here with me."  
  
Quinn took another swig of beer, easing back and enjoying himself. Ben had insisted that he stay comfortably seated while he did all the cooking and food preparation. Quinn openly watched him for a little while. "Who ever thought," he said, "that little Benton Fraser would be so at home in a big city in America? Doesn't life have its turns, eh?"  
  
"Yes, it does. This feels like home now, Quinn. Never thought I'd say that. There's much to be said for the museums, theatre, fine cuisine from all around the world, the pleasant clash of language and culture here...Ray says I should get citizenship... but I find myself...feeling resistant to that."  
  
"Think of that as disloyal, do ya?"  
  
"Yes. That's it precisely."  
  
"Ben, get the citizenship."  
  
"It would be nice to be able to vote in the local, state, and national elections," he said slowly, distracted by some nearby footsteps.  
  
"There you have it," Quinn said.  
  
A tall, thin man with a Roman nose suddenly burst onto the porch. "Venison smells good, Benny. I could smell it coming down the block. "  
  
Ben had broken out into a full grin, his eyes crinkling with delight. "Ray! What are you doing here?"  
  
"I came for the car. Me and Doyle's gotta do a stakeout over on 49th Street. We got a tip that something big's going down tonight. How ya doin'?" The man stuck out his hand, and Quinn rose to shake it.   
  
Ben remembered his manners. "Oh. Ray Vecchio, Tom Quinn."  
  
"Nice to know ya, Tom." The thin man eyed Quinn. "I see Benny got you back in one piece. That's a miracle." He chuckled.  
  
"Ray Vecchio, you know I'm an excellent driver."  
  
"Yeah, okay. Listen, I'm gonna take a quick shower."  
  
"Can you stay for dinner? The venison will be done in a few minutes."  
  
"Can't. Doyle's waitin'."  
  
"I'll make you a sandwich to go, then."  
  
"Alright."  
  
"Excuse me for a few moments, Quinn." Ben went inside with Ray. He called through the screen door. "Oh. Would you mind keeping an eye out for the meat? The fork and plate is on the side table."  
  
Quinn could hear the men murmuring inside for a few minutes. Then there was silence after Ben's friend disappeared into the bathroom, and Ben moved about the kitchen, humming to himself.  
  
Quinn closed his eyes for a few moments and enjoyed the sounds of the pleasant domesticity. His keen ears picked up the sound of the shower running. He could hear Ben scraping the sides of a mayonnaise jar, a knife cutting on a thick cutting board, Ben's footfalls on the vinyl floor. It was past midnight, his time, and Quinn usually retired much earlier than this. He felt the first edges of sleep slip in as jet lag and alcohol caught up to him.   
  
His head jerked suddenly, and he opened his eyes. Ray and Ben stood just outside the range of the porch light, kissing. Ray wore a different set of clothes. Ben's back was to him. Quinn heard Ray whisper, "I love you, too. I'll see you tomorrow night. Unless you wanna come home and meet for, uh...'lunch'?"   
  
"Wish I could. Quinn's dropping by the Consulate at noon for a short visit, and then I'm going to accompany him to the power company directly after. He's going to try to get in and see the company president about halting that dam construction."  
  
"Alright, then. I'll see you tomorrow night. Doyle told me about this great little Mexican place that just opened up in West Town."  
  
"That sounds fine, Ray."  
  
"I wouldn't get my hopes up if I were Quinn. And neither should you. Pick you two up at six. Thanks for the sandwich." He gave Ben a light pat on the rump before turning to leave.  
  
He disappeared into the night, and Ben turned to find Quinn's eyes on him. "Oh! You're awake. Food's ready if you still feel like eating."  
  
"I'm starved. I feel like I could eat the whole deer."  
  
"Me, too. I set the table inside. It's gotten a bit nippy out here; Halloween's in the air."  
  
"It's not that cold. I think this city life's made you a little soft."  
  
From the graveyard next door, there was a blood curdling howl. "Very funny, Dief." Ben called.   
  
"What's with him?"  
  
"He's still sulking because he couldn't come to the airport with me. Ray won't allow him in his new car. Dief! We're eating! Are you coming?!" he called. "Alright, suit yourself, you big baby."   
  
Ben held the door open as Quinn clambered to his feet and, stiff-legged from being sedentary for so long, went inside.  
  
VVVVVV  
  
"No, I'm quite certain."  
  
"No, I don't think so."  
  
"No, I'm certain."  
  
"I know that rock."  
  
Ben stood next to Quinn and pointed out a spot on a large wall-sized photo. "You mean the one shaped like a wolverine?" He asked.  
  
"It's not a wolverine, it's an otter." Quinn said.  
  
"So it is. Well, nevertheless, it is here that we saw the three-legged cougar."  
  
Quinn countered. "No, it's here we saw the cougar. Here is where Nicholas Mulcahey got his mouth frozen to the side of the portable toilet."  
  
"So it is," Ben admitted. "Been a while."  
  
"Yeah," Quinn agreed. "Good times." He chuckled. "And that's..."   
  
"That's where my father's body was found," Ben finished resolutely.  
  
"He was killed for a dam, Ben. They killed so they could drown our homes. Flood our forests. Keep the lights burning all night in the empty buildings of the cities. But not this time."  
  
An expensively-tailored young man appeared in front of them. "Hey, gentlemen! Jack Goody. Everything okay? We looking after you all right?"  
  
"We're fine, thank you." Ben said.  
  
"Great. Has someone offered you a coffee? Cappucino? Expresso? Latte! Regular and decaf! Don't say `no'." He hit a remote control, a bell chimed, and a woman obediently and instantly appeared. "Hey honey, two lattes, a half capp decaf for me, and bring some of those biscotti. Thanks, sweetheart!"   
  
Quinn steeled himself. "I'm Tom Quinn. I've come to see Mr. Caruthers."  
  
"Ah, well, I'm Mr. Caruthers personal assistant. I'm not quite up to speed here. Do you know Mr. Caruthers?"  
  
"I spoke to him when he came to our town. He said if I were ever in Chicago to stop in and see him. I'm in Chicago."  
  
"I see. The thing is, Mr. Caruthers is extremely busy right now. So if you could leave me your number, I might be able to get you five minutes in about three weeks."  
  
"In three weeks, my home will be under one hundred feet of water."  
  
"Oh... that town. It's always difficult, I know. But, you should find some consolation in knowing you're providing power for millions of people. Now, my advice to you, sir, is that you should go home...and move. You can't stop this. It's been approved. We put it to bed. It creased the sheets. We've spent millions. People have been talked to."  
  
"What about the caribou, the elk, the beaver. Did you talk to them? Because they, too, can talk."  
  
"You know, when I was a kid, I used to think cows talked. But when I grew up, I realized that all they can say is `moo'." Goody dismissively slapped him on the shoulder. "Hey, there she is! Listen fellas, I gotta fly. Thanks for dropping by, and leave me that number, okay? Ciaou."  
  
Quinn grabbed a handful of biscotti from the proffered serving tray and stuffed them in his pocket as they headed toward the stairs.   
  
Ben said, "Quinn. `The caribou, the elk, the beaver. They too can talk'?"  
  
"I've been getting into this native roots thing, and it seems to work. Besides, I thought the Tonto act might impress that little jackass."   
  
As they exited through the mall side of the glass and steel structure, they crossed through a shopping center to return to Michigan Avenue. A Caucasian man with a slight build and a heavier African-American man with long hair pushed their way through the crowd, wielding weapons.   
  
Quinn took one look at Ben and they both knew what they had to do. They gave chase. The white man shot at Ben several times before breaking away as he turned a corner.   
  
The black man headed for the elevator, and forced-closed the doors. Quinn hit the elevator's call button. Lazy American. Who takes an elevator to escape from a robbery? Shortly after, the elevator door opened again. Quinn simply pushed the man against the granite wall, and he went down like a ton of bricks, complaining about his neck.   
  
Quinn turned and ran for Ben. He wasn't hard to find. He simply followed the sounds of gunshots. He climbed several stories before dead-ending to a roof ladder and an open hatch, sun streaming in and illuminating the dim corridor he found himself in. He climbed up and immediately caught side of the man leaning over a dangling Ben. Quinn sprinted before he could even process any rational thought.  
  
"Hey! Get away from him!" The man quickly fled, and Quinn turned to the matter at hand. "Ben! Get you a foothold."  
  
Ben kept his face calm, but his eyes were full of panic. But he refused to let it take him over. Good. Quinn had taught him well that panic in crises is what got people killed more often than not.  
  
"Find you legs," he coached. "Take my hand, Ben."   
  
After a steadying moment, Ben grabbed his hands, and with a grunt, dragged himself up and over the wall with sheer will.   
  
Quinn hoisted Ben over with all his strength, and they both heaved sighs of relief. "That's a long way down," Quinn said.  
  
"True enough," Ben agreed, huffing from the exertion.  
  
VVVVVV  
  
"Thank you kindly for your help. This is the second time you've saved my life." Ben sat next to Quinn on the stairway of the power company while Quinn attended to his injured hand. The building was buzzing with law enforcement while media trucks set up outside for the six o'clock news stories.  
  
"We all have our bad habits," Quinn comforted, patting the undamaged part of his hand.   
  
"Sorry for the way things worked out today," Ben said.   
  
"Doesn't matter. I will succeed."  
  
"It's going to be very difficult to get to see this man, let alone convince him to give up something that's already `creased the sheets.'"  
  
"I can talk anybody out of anything. You know that."  
  
"Quinn. The rest of the town has already moved. They've given up."  
  
"Sure. Because it's easy. It's just rocks and trees and dirt. I know that. It's the places I stood with my father, the trails he showed me, we sheltered under. My whole life will be under water."  
  
"You know you may not stand a chance against these people. You are an honest man like my father, and he wasn't equipped."  
  
"Well, I'm well equipped."  
  
An exhausted-looking Ray Vecchio had been called to the scene some time ago, but had kept a professional distance as he worked the case. As the details were nearly wrapped up, he now approached them. "You okay?" He asked Ben with gentle concern.  
  
"Fine."  
  
"You want someone to take a look at that for ya?"  
  
"No, no. Quinn had some powdered horn, thank you," he heard Ben murmur.  
  
"That's good. I left my powdered horn in my other jacket," Ray said with a smile in his voice. He turned to Quinn. "So, how'd it go today?"  
  
"Not well."  
  
"I coulda told you that. These big companies only believe in one thing."  
  
"Money." It wasn't a question.  
  
"Yeah. It buys lawyers, politicians, access. That's the way it works."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
Ray nodded toward a man in a twill blazer. "Quinn, this is my partner Micky Doyle. Mick, Benny's friend Quinn. Quinn, he'll take your statement." Ray left him to sit with Ben. As Doyle prepared to take notes, Quinn noticed Ray pick up Benny's injured hand cradle it. Ben smiled.  
  
VVVVVV  
  
Quinn gently and silently crept through the lobby, careful not to reveal any `tells' of what he was about to do. He casually entered the elevator, pressed a button, and peered up to the ceiling as the doors closed. Those jewels had to be hidden on top of the elevator. Quinn had seen the man enter with them, yet he hadn't exited with them. He pressed against the ceiling panel, which immediately gave way, and immediately his hand brushed cotton. He grabbed the bag, examining it for just a moment as he contemplated his next move. No turning back now. He stuffed the bag in his pocket.   
  
Quinn proceeded down the crowded street. He was being followed. He had zigzagged through this section of the city, and had walked in circles. And still he could not shake this shadow. He pretended to peer through the window of the jewelry store, and observed the man, in suit and sunglasses, standing across the street watching his every move. The man wanted his jewels back, and Quinn wasn't prepared to give them up. These jewels were going to be used for a higher purpose.  
  
Quinn increased his gait until gradually he did a slow jog. Likewise, his shadow jogged. He hailed a cab. He ran along side the cab, opened the door and sat. "Sorry," he told the curious driver who had turned to face him. He eased out of the cab, closed the door, and dove for cover behind a U.S. post box.  
  
VVVVVV  
  
Quinn approached the power company's large steel and glass offices. He was almost back at the massive revolving doors when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He was startled, but he knew exactly who it was.  
  
Ben said, "'It's more important to know where the game is going than where it's been.'"  
  
"You hunting me, Ben?"  
  
VVVVVV  
  
"You want my help?" Quinn asked as they traveled through the lobby.   
  
"Yes," Ben said. "To track the man who took the jewels."  
  
"You can't track a man in the city."  
  
"You told me it was possible to track anything."  
  
"I told you it was possible to track anything you understood."  
  
"I understand this man."  
  
"How?"  
  
"I know that he's a criminal. I know he's tried to kill me, I've seen him. Assuming of course, that it's the other thief that took the jewels." Ben glanced at him meaningfully as they boarded the elevator.   
  
"Assuming," Quinn agreed. Quinn lifted the ceiling tile, and gave the empty shaft a perfunctory look. "Someone's been up here. You could have seen that yourself, Ben. Someone tall, about my height."  
  
"How do you know?" Ben asked.  
  
"Couldn't have reached far enough up unless he was. Didn't stand on anything. Would have seen him if he did." He let the ceiling door fall back into place.  
  
"And now, which way did he go?" Ben asked as they exited the elevator. Quinn knew he was being pushed, albeit gently.  
  
"I don't have time for this Ben. I came here to do a job."  
  
"They won't see you. What more can you do?"  
  
"I can get help. Hire lawyers, maybe. I dunno."  
  
"Lawyers require money. You have money?"  
  
"I can get it. I have to do this Ben."  
  
"That's exactly the way I felt about the caribou, you remember?"  
  
"This is more important than a boy killing a caribou."  
  
"Yes, but maybe not to that boy."   
  
Ben proceeded to remind him of the story of the worst mistake of his life as they ambled down the streets of Chicago. How far away that was, in both distance and time. Quinn yearned for the simplicity of those days.  
  
VVVVVV  
  
"He came this way," Ben asked.   
  
"Yes."  
  
"Is there a sign?"  
  
"I know he did."  
  
"Is he the thief?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Why did he take the jewels?"   
  
"Why did Stinky Masterson steal Jimmy Long Bow's snow mobile?"  
  
"That's not the same thing at all. Stinky's sled dogs had eaten poisoned tarrot and needed transport."  
  
"Because he needed it."  
  
"No, no, no, no," Ben corrected. "Because he wanted it. There's a difference."  
  
"The men I'm fighting are just like the men who killed your father, greedy, corrupt, evil men."  
  
"Nothing good can come from a bad act, Quinn. You taught me that."  
  
"Who said I was always right?" He tried to make a joke of it, but it fell flat.  
  
"Maybe we are going about this the wrong way," Ben said with mild frustration. "The man who has the jewels, he'll need to sell them to use the money. Now, that means he'll need to go to a dealer of stolen goods, otherwise known as a `fence'. My friend Ray has on occasion pointed some out to me. Perhaps we should visit a couple."  
  
"You will be my guide?" Quinn asked, roles reversed for the first time in their relationship.  
  
"I will be your guide," Ben agreed.  
  
VVVVVV  
  
"This is the fence," Ben said finally, after they had walked in near-silence for nearly thirty minutes.   
  
"You going to come in with me?" Quinn asked.  
  
"I can't do that."   
  
Ben resolutely met his eye before Quinn turned to make the long journey down the alley by himself. As he turned, he saw the look of disappointment flash across Ben's face. He walked down the alleyway, brushing aside rubbish, smelling the pungent aroma of human urine. Quinn glanced down at his shaking hands. Is this what he had been reduced to? Skulking along in back alleys, brushing up against the underworld and dealing with stolen goods, criminals?   
  
Quinn reached the door. This was it. Go through it, or don't go through it? There was no turning back after this. He put his hand on the doorknob. No. This wasn't right. Tom Quinn felt shame for himself as he walked back out of the dank, dark alley, toward Ben and the sun.  
  
"I suppose they'll want them back," he said to Ben once he had emerged onto the sidewalk again.  
  
"I think that would be a good idea."  
  
"I don't have them with me."  
  
"I thought not. Where are they?"  
  
"I took'em back to the consulate. I gave them to Turnbull for safe keeping. I failed."   
  
"No, Quinn, you haven't," Ben said.  
  
VVVVVV  
  
"Oh, for the love of Pete, I'm coming!" Turnbull cried through the door, exasperated. He let them in. "Sorry I locked the door; I'm cooking. One onion diced, celery, carrots...mushroom sliced..."  
  
"Turnbull?"  
  
"Sir?"  
  
"What are you blithering on about?"  
  
"Oh- the ingredients for the dish I'm preparing. You blend them all together and `voila'!"  
  
"'Voila, what?"  
  
"Ratatouille, my friend!"  
  
"Everything I hate in one bowl."  
  
"Mr. Quinn, with all due respect sir, let me nip off to the kitchen and get you a sample, and I'm pretty darn confident it'll change your mind."  
  
As Turnbull turned, the doorbell rang. "Would you be a peach and get that for me?"  
  
Quinn answered the door. His shadow had finally caught up to him. The jewel thief had come for him. He forced his way into the consulate. "Don't move or I'll kill him!" He shouted at Benton. "Don't move! All right, where are they?" He asked Quinn.  
  
"Do you think I'm stupid enough to carry them?"  
  
"Turn `em over right now, or I'll blow you away!"  
  
"Not very logical. If you kill him, he can't tell you where they are," Ben calmly pointed out.   
  
"Doesn't stop me from killing you," he said to Ben.  
  
"You shoot a mountie, they'll hunt you forever." Quinn said.  
  
"Alright. Alright. Let's go. Both of you!"  
  
Turnbull returned just as they were being forced through the doorway. "Oh company!" He called, before yelling a panicked "Gun!" He turned and crashed into a wall, hitting the floor just as the doors closed behind them.  
  
VVVVVV  
  
"Okay, we're going to make this real simple," the jewel thief--Kelly--said. "You tell me where the jewels are, and I won't kill your Mountie friend."  
  
The two of them were tied to each other back to back against a steel I-beam.  
  
"Don't listen to him, Quinn."  
  
Quinn could hear the sound of Fraser being hit. "Shut up!" The man snarled.  
  
"He'll kill us as soon as he has the jewels," Ben continued.  
  
"Or maybe one in the kneecap? Just to get the ball rolling, huh?" Quinn heard the sound a gun being cocked.   
  
"I'll take you to them," Quinn relented. Nothing was worth Ben Fraser's life.  
  
"Quinn," Ben warned.  
  
"It's okay, Ben."  
  
"Alright! Good boy!" Kelly pointed to Ben with his gun. "Bad boy." And back to Quinn. "Good boy... Bad boy... Good boy...Bad boy." He ranted nervously, tight as a bow. This man was dangerous, someone who could go over the edge any second. Quinn forced his panic down as he heard the dim sound of distant sirens.  
  
Kelly dragged Quinn out of the building, downstairs to the waiting police. "I got two hostages," he yelled.  
  
Ray Vecchio said, "Come on. We've all seen the movie. Forget about it."  
  
"I'll do it!" Kelly threatened, holding a gun to his head. "I'll swear to God, I'll do it, now move back!" Kelly was out of control and panic stricken.  
  
"Put the gun down. We can all go home. Nobody has to die here."  
  
"One of them's a cop."  
  
"Right. It just buys you trouble."  
  
"It buys me a way out of here. You got a cell phone? Use it. 555-0165."  
  
Kelly dragged Quinn back into the building.   
  
VVVVV  
  
"How are your ropes?" Ben whispered.  
  
"Tight," Quinn replied. "I'm losing circulation in my fingers. Can you move your hands?"  
  
"I think so."  
  
"There."  
  
Ben was able to grab the outermost knot, and quickly untied it. He began to work on the next one. With enough leeway, Quinn was able to untie one of Ben's knots, further allowing him to loosen other knots that bound them. Kelly was distracted, watching for the police's first move and muttering to himself, so their efforts, thankfully, went unnoticed.   
  
He did approach them as they had nearly untied themselves before Kelly's cell phone rang.   
  
Quinn listened to Kelly's side of the conversation. "We got a deal?...Oh, I thought you saw this movie. Listen carefully. You got one minute to put a car outside the door and clear out."  
  
"'In the script?!' Forget the script! I'm not waitin' for the SWAT team or the hostage guy! Now, you do it right now, or I shoot the Indian...One minute, and don't forget. I got two in here, and one's expendable. Alright?!"  
  
"One knot at a time, Ben. One knot at a time. Concentrate."  
  
"Where's that car? We need that car!" Kelly said, voice rising with frustration and nervousness.  
  
They were almost loose.   
  
"I can't believe this. They're stalling. The bastards are stalling!" Kelly yelled.   
  
Quinn felt all the tension release from his hands as Ben pulled free the final knot. He saw Kelly raise his gun and he dove for cover. The man took a wild shot over Quinn's head.   
  
He quickly ducked out of sight, but stayed close to Kelly, right where he wouldn't expect him to be. "You've lost your hostage. If I know Quinn" Ben said calmly, catching sight of Quinn behind some barrels, "you'll probably never find him. What do you propose to do?"   
  
"I'll kill him!" Kelly screamed at Quinn from his hiding place.  
  
"I would have thought that keeping me alive would improve your bargaining position," Ben reminded the panicking man. Quinn could see that Ben was still tied up.  
  
He quickly popped out from his hiding spot with a "Hey!" to distract the man, who squeezed off a wild shot as he ducked back behind the barrels.   
  
There was a sound of an engine revving, and a split-second after that, glass breaking. The deafening thunder of the motorbike filled the room as Ray Vecchio came crashing through the large window, knocking Kelly over. Stunned for a few moments, Kelly recovered and staggered to his feet, aiming the gun at Ray. Ben Fraser came from nowhere and kicked the gun from the would-be murderer's hand. He contemptuously karate-chopped Kelly in the back of the head as Ray had time to draw his gun and aim.   
  
Ray yelled, "Don't move! Don't. Move. Hand away from the gun! Away from the gun."   
  
Kelly froze, a look of absolute terror on his face now that he was no longer empowered with a weapon. He wasn't so tough after all. Ray cuffed the man, and left him to lie in the dirt face down. He grabbed Benny by his upper arms. "He hurt you?"  
  
"I'm all right, Ray."  
  
"You sure?"  
  
"Yes, I'm fine." Ray let out a harsh breath, and wrapped his arms around Ben, squeezing until Ben grunted.  
  
Quinn heard several footsteps coming up the stairs as Ray released Ben.   
  
And with that, it was over.  
  
VVVVVV  
  
Tom Quinn never knew that dinner could be such a noisy and frenetic affair. He cringed as a one of the Moretti children launched a meatball from across the table at his sibling that was seated next to Ray. It landed on Quinn's plate.  
  
The children's mother, Maria, smacked her hand against the table, making everybody jump. "Paulie! What have I told you about that?! Get straight upstairs!" The boy petulantly left the table without a word. "These kids are gonna drive me crazy! Sorry! So as I was saying..." Her conversation blended into one of several as Ben, Ray, his mother, sisters, brother-in-law Tony, cousin Valerie, and uncle Lorenzo all talked over one another.   
  
Ray and Lorenzo quickly got into a heated debate about football, as Ray's sister Francesca complained to her cousin about her long hours of work at the police station. Tony and Maria argued about whose turn it was to stay home with the kids while the other enjoyed a night out with their friends.   
  
"What are you talkin' about?" Tony asked. "You and Anne went to the movies last weekend!"  
  
"No we didn't, that was a long time ago! You got to go bowling with the boys three weekends in a row!"  
  
"I couldn't help that you were sick. So you missed your turn. Not my fault."  
  
"You are so selfish! You cancel your plans. I'm going to Veronica's Mary Kay party with Frannie, and that's that!"  
  
Mrs. Vecchio threw up her hands. "Oh! You both go! I'll watch the kids."  
  
"No, Ma. He can watch his own kids. It's my turn to get out of the house."  
  
"Maria, I don't mind watching them."  
  
"That's not the point, Ma."  
  
"Maria, she said she'd watch them, what are you arguing with her for?"  
  
"Don't you take advantage of my mother!"  
  
"Who's taking advantage?"  
  
"Ma, you are NOT watching the kids Friday!"  
  
"Let her watch'em!"  
  
Maria cuffed her husband in the back of the head.   
  
"Ow!"  
  
"Is it always like this?" Quinn asked Ben.  
  
Overhearing this, Ray laughed.  
  
"Oh. Don't worry," Ben replied, smiling reassuringly. "They only attack the ones they love."   
  
Finis  
  


  
 

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End B&R19: The Mighty Quinn by Dee Gilles 

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